


Improvisation

by Wallwalker



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Bath Sex, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot, Porn Battle, Rough Sex, Tails, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freya might not care for Treno much, but she does enjoy their bath houses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improvisation

**Author's Note:**

> Porn Battle prompt "hidden", KB prompt "Bodies and Body Parts." Established relationship, sort of skips over the 10K epic I'd like to write someday about these two getting together. I consider this an AU in which events conspired to make the Alexandria job for Prima Vista never happen.

People could say what they wanted about Treno, but Freya would give them one thing - they had excellent bathhouses. They were exactly what she needed to wash off the dirt of the road, and the hot water and scented soaps were terribly soothing. She could almost forget the aching scars that still throbbed on her skin, even after all of the healing magic she had been able to buy.

She was glad that the journey had taken her back to Treno, if only for the baths. Unhappy that she had still found no trace, of course, but... well. Could she really claim that she had expected to find one? She'd been hunting for so long... it seemed unthinkable that he would be _here,_ of all places. Sir Fratley had never had anything kind to say about Treno. Most Burmecians did not.

Which made Freya wonder what _she_ was doing there, for a moment, soaking in one of that disreputable city's baths and enjoying herself. Burmecian warriors hardly ever bathed in hot water; it was considered wasteful and weak. But then... she had promised, at least to herself, not to return to Burmecia until she had Sir Fratley by her side again, and that had been longer than she cared to think about. The thought of rain, which had once seemed so homey and welcoming, now made her throw up her arms and run for shelter, just like anyone else from these dry lands.

Sometimes she wondered if she could still call herself a Burmecian at all.

That was the one problem with these baths, she thought as she stood. They gave her too much time to think. Best she get up now, dry herself off.

The private room had cost her, but she considered it a worthwhile purchase. She always felt a bit self-conscious around the nobles of this city, not because she actually considered them her betters, but because she could always feel their eyes upon her scars. A few of the younger and more tactless ones had asked her where she had gotten this one or that, and had gotten very cross with her when she had refused to answer to their whims. The privacy was certainly worth the extra gil. Besides, the rooms were kept comfortably warm, and once she had toweled her sleek furred body off, she could stand nude in the room and not feel chilled.

She had been about to find her undergarments when she had heard a familiar whistle, off in one corner of the room, behind a rack of oils. "Nice view," said a familiar voice, and if it had been anyone else Freya would have leaped over and clawed at him. Even without her spear she was far from helpless.

Instead she just rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you would say so, Zidane," she whispered back, but felt her ears perk up, betraying her pleasure at the compliment. She didn't bother to ask him how he'd gotten there. He was a thief, and a particularly good one. She was sure that this wasn't the first bathhouse he'd slipped into in his relatively short life. "I hope you have the wit to stay quiet. I only paid for a bath for one."

His head popped up from behind the rack, golden-haired as ever, and smiling widely. "See, that's the difference between you an' me. You do things the right way. I improvise."

"Improvise?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I like that word. It suits an actor like me."

"There are other things that some would call you."

"Everyone's entitled to their opinion." Zidane eased himself out from behind the rack, not knocking over a single bottle. She had to admit, that was sort of impressive. "But I don't have to agree."

Freya shook her head and did her best not to smile. Zidane, for all of his goofy antics and his loose view of morality, was nothing if not entertaining. He had a way of putting her at ease; usually she'd be embarrassed, to say the very least, at this situation. He made her feel comfortable in her own skin. Freya had never been considered particularly beautiful, even by Burmecian standards; her nose was too large, her fur a bit too pale, her eyes too small and dark. And that said nothing about the scars; she had had something to prove when she'd been young, and even as a neophyte she had thrown herself into training, and had the scars to prove it. She knew she must look like a mess at times, with the way that they criss-crossed over her torso and arms... but Zidane treated her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, when they were in these compromising positions. He treated her that way so convincingly that she almost believed it. "Well, if you want to take a bath you'd best hurry up," she said. "I had ever intention of getting dressed and leaving soon for a drink, and I don't know how quickly that attendant will be in to clean up." She turned away again, ready to pick up her clothes.

Zidane's tail, wrapped tightly around her wrist, stopped her short. She supposed she could have kept going - it was strong, but she was surely stronger - except that the next thing she felt was the careful touch of his hand through his thin leather gloves, cupping one of her small breasts. "You don't really think that's why I'm here, do you?" he whispered in her ear, punctuating it with a quick nip on her earlobe that made her gasp.

In all honesty, she hadn't. But Zidane was much more creative when he thought he had to convince her, she thought with a smile. "So - ah!" she gasped, doing her best to stay as quiet as she could as he gently ran one finger around his her nipple. "So why are you - ah -"

"I wanted to see just how quiet you could be," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He nuzzled her neck, and now both of his hands were on her breasts, and his tail had unwound itself and was stroking her leg, and... and...

...and Freya was running out of reasons to object to his sneaking in, even though she knew that she really should. Zidane knew exactly what he was doing, knew just how to touch her - gloves off now, somehow, blunt fingernails gently scraping over her nipples, hands traveling over her body and avoiding the worst of the scars. And his tail, finishing its slow slide up her leg, softly gliding between her legs, the soft fur short and delicate enough to slide over her clit and make her grit her teeth to keep from crying out. She still made a noise in her throat, and found herself hoping that the old lady attendant wasn't watching - or if she was that she would assume that it was just her, taking pleasure in the bath.

"Mmm," he whispered. His cock was pressed against her ass now, and she could feel it under his tight trousers, could tell he was hard. "You really need this, don't you?"

She nodded, mouth still tightly shut, catching at the table in front of her and sliding her claws further apart on the floor. She hadn't realized how badly until he'd arrived, but he was right, once again. So much of their relationship was based on need, tempered with enough respect that it never felt like they were using each other.

"Are you sure? I can't quite hear you," he whispered. The movement of his tail slowed to a crawl, started to pull away -

" _Yes,_ " she whispered back as emphatically as she could manage without being tempted to scream. "Stop toying with me, dammit, or I'll -"

Whatever empty threat she had in mind, though, it was quickly forgotten as he spun her around. "Whatever you say," he said, dropping to his knees in front of her.

"Dragons," she swore as his tongue touched her swollen clit, voice still hushed as best she could, but it was getting harder to think about. This was something she had never imagined doing back at home, something that wasn't even talked about - a Burmecian had far too many teeth, and their claws were far too sharp. But now that she'd had it - Zidane's practiced mouth suckling and licking her, his fingers crooked inside of her hot cunt and pressing just so - she couldn't imagine giving it up. And he wasn't going easy on her, either - he'd done this enough times to know exactly what she was doing, wasn't giving her a chance to relax.

If they'd been in an inn somewhere she would've screamed as she came - he liked to hear that from her, loved how much she enjoyed it. She was sure that she'd made some noise, at least, pained moans deep in her throat as the climax finally came. She could hear him humming appreciatively, his fingers slowing just enough to stretch it out a little bit longer as she shuddered.f

She was still panting as he finally stood, slowly sliding out of her. "Do it," she hissed as he wrapped his arm around her back. "Please. Right here."

"You sure?" He grinned impishly, started loosening his trousers. "You didn't seem to like me sneaking in before -"

"Damn it, Zidane, do it!" She pushed herself up on the bench, lying down - it was cool against her back, and she was sure she'd pay for it later that night, but hell, she'd slept on far worse. And she couldn't help but notice it was just the right height. It was almost as if they'd made it for this sort of situation.

He didn't argue anymore. Didn't get himself all the way out of his trousers, either, shimmied out of them just enough - she caught a glimpse of his cock, the flushed head poking out of its sheath, a drop of precome glistening on its tip. It was strange, compared to the ones she'd seen in furtive midnight fumblings as a youth, long and slender and pink - like a club compared to a long dagger. It had made her nervous, the first time they'd done this, drunk and giggly and high off the adrenaline of a particularly good hunt - the alcohol had helped, but she'd been rather sore the next morning.

She was used to it now, though, and took it with barely a whimper as he thrust into her with one quick motion - it still stretched her, but it was a familiar stretch now, a pleasant one. He fucked her roughly, hard enough that she _knew_ she'd regret it the next day, her bare back digging into the stone, but at the moment she was hard-pressed to care. Sometimes their sex was awkward, and sometimes it was a bit complicated... but when it was good, it was fantastic. And apparently today was going to be a good day.

It was only a short while before she felt him come inside of her, cock twitching and shaking. He hadn't lasted nearly as long as usual, she thinks absently; apparently she wasn't the only one who really needed it. He was panting as hard as she was, his soft skin flushed with the exertion. "Whew," he said, quietly, with a big, goofy grin on his face. "I... I think I need that bath now."

"I could... use another... myself," she said, nuzzling his neck as he held her tightly. The pulling and aching of her scars was, at least for the moment, completely forgotten. Another thing in which Zidane was exceptionally gifted. "But... not now. Someone... someone must've heard _some_ of that."

"You could always head out the way I came in," he said. "But you'd better meet me for another drink tonight."

She nods. "Usual place? Or have you made the owner angry again?"

"Nah. I mean, not that much. Usual place should be fine." He pulls away from her, and even then she felt a pang as he slid out of her, still half-hard. He was just a bit unsteady as he stripped down and walked over to the bath, just a bit less graceful than usual as he climbed in, and she couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of herself. She herself wobbled a bit as she stands, and her back was already aching, but she figured it was worth it.

No time for another bath; she washed herself off quickly before getting dressed, pulling on a clean set of leathers. "I hope you can handle the attendant when she realizes you've suddenly shrank and changed genders on her," she said, reaching over and taking Zidane's hand carefully.

"Oh, relax. She's probably too bored to even care." He gave her a saucy grin. "Entrance to the catacombs is behind that rack. You shouldn't have any trouble as long as you remember to duck."

"I'll be careful. And you'd better not forget that drink."

"I won't. I'm glad you're back, Freya."

"Yeah." She nodded. "Me too."

He gave her a languid wave and then settled back into the tub, smiling contentedly.

The entrance was easy enough to get into, and fortunately not enough of a fall to cause her any trouble; she landed on her feet in the catacombs easily enough, wincing a bit at the ache in her back. She was going to have to take a trip to the apothecary before she did anything else, she thought; she was dreadfully low on provisions, and hunting with a bad back in the dark wasn't sounding very pleasant.

First, though, she'd get some rest. And hire one of the local ruffians to send a small pouch of gil to the old lady - Zidane might be entitled to his opinions about this so-called improvisation, but Freya didn't have to agree.


End file.
